THE PARLORMAID
The girl nodded.
"How long did the interview last?"
"The interview?"
"Yes, the interview between you and Mr. Ackroyd in the study?"
"I—I don't know."
"Twenty minutes? Half an hour?"
"Something like that."
"Not longer?"
"Not longer than half an hour, certainly."
"Thank you, mademoiselle."
I looked curiously at him. He was rearranging a few objects on the table, setting them straight with precise fingers. His eyes were shining.
"That'll do," said the inspector.
Ursula Bourne disappeared. The inspector turned to Miss Russell.
"How long has she been here? Have you got a copy of the reference you had with her?"
Without answering the first question, Miss Russell moved to an adjacent bureau, opened one of the drawers, and took out a handful of letters clipped together with a patent fastener. She selected one and handed it to the inspector.
"H'm," said he. "Reads all right. Mrs. Richard Folliott, Marby Grange, Marby. Who's this woman?"
"Quite good county people," said Miss Russell.
"Well," said the inspector, handing it back, "let's have a look at the other one, Elsie Dale."
Elsie Dale was a big fair girl, with a pleasant but
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